Aquathritis

Old Wizard, Art by Alexandra Khitrova

Born a brother of the sea

My blood moves with tide

Great waves crash inside me

As life plays out upon its stage

Rain dancing with terra firma

Cleansed skyward reaching pillars

quenching their Sun-blanched thirst

Gray clouds thunder with light

The storm’s magic is no longer silent

Bones tremble as ocean’s ebon depths rise

Gale-fired swells transverse the shore

It Surrenders to its fury without fight

Calling to mind ‘All that is given’

With time nature’s eye closed

Tortuously the storm initiates rest

Suffocated soil may once again kiss the sky

Devouring with vigor the day’s light

Perched upon this mountain top

Time’s toll on my form is evident

Each droplet of future’s rain

Is a promise to me forecast in pain.

by Hugh A Tague

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Autumn’s Sun

 

Photo by Hugh A Tague

 

Autumn’s Sun
by Hugh A Tague

Autumn’s sun shines bright by day
warming the ground where fallen leaves lay.
As if Mother Nature had to sneeze
a strong wind blew the color from the trees.

Nighttime arrived with a clear star filled sky
sound asleep under a warm blanket we lie.
Jack Frost’s breath fell gently upon the ground
kissing the once green fields turning them brown.

Journey For Life

 

Journey For Life
by Hugh A Tague

Bursting forth from an earthbound pod
finding freedom in the late Autumn wind
adrift high above the mountain’s side
through treetops on currents of air it rides.

The winds deflected by the canopy of limbs
sending the little seed twisting and turning
the fluffy white flyer’s adventure now unsure
as it falls gently toward the forest floor.

Forever Haunted

Forever Haunted
by, Hugh A Tague

The blood red harvest moon shone through
the sparse Autumn treetops, chasing away
a fast moving thunderstorm. The cold
October wind blew down the quiet lane
making leaves dance, like spirits on the run.

A porch light set a warm glow on a jug of cider
placed next to a plate of candied apples.
A scarecrow stuffed with hay, stood sentry on the stoop
as a jack-o-lantern flickered the darkness
away from the walk.

Backlit by the streetlight, little witches, ghosts and goblins
cast elongated shadows. The sound of children laughing
echoed on the breeze, as they meandered up the street.

A ferocious storm shook the town many years ago.
Under the cover of darkness, a fugitive
slipped away from his confines.
Nothing that is good will come this night.
His vision clouded by evil, the escapee sped down the hill
like a runaway train, obliterating three very young trick-or-treaters, then crashing into the light pole, his life too ended just as swiftly as his victim’s.

The ground began to rumble as a powerful wind roared past,
and a wicked silence fell upon the lane. The moon’s light
washed the darkness away from the house
with the festive porch, revealing that it has actually
been long abandoned. The children had lived in that house.
Their parents unable to survive just feet away
from the place they perished, simply left,
never to return again.

All for a freedom that lasted but a splinter of time.
The killer’s soul now condemned to exist only in shadows,
tortured and twisted by the guilt of my sins,
yes my sins, it was me,
it was I who extinguished their lights
it was I, that ended their lives.

Every year since, on all hallows eve
I must look upon what I have done. I must relive it
over and over again. Because I have deprived
so many of so much, my spirit remains
infinitely restless.

My regret and sentence eternal,
by the shadows of that dark and evil Halloween night
I shall continue to be…
Forever Haunted.

Fall of The Sumac Phoenix

Fall of The Sumac Phoenix
by Hugh A Tague

Helios’ sun no longer reigns supreme
as Autumn’s sky begins to cool and gray
Hephaestus loads his brush in nature’s forge
painting each of the bird’s feathers with fire
wings stretched, the sumac looks skyward
milkweed burst in puffs of white smoke
and the phoenix is consumed by winter
until Boreas’ takes his last frosty breath
with Spring’s gentle touch, comes resurrection.

Can You See What I See?

 

by  Hugh A Tague

I see Autumn’s brilliant colors are all but gone,
Summer’s sweet song has long been sung.
Short days followed by endless cold nights,
brown forest and fields are now Winter’s delight.

I see a bear walking about curious and free,
no more long Summer’s naps, in the shade of a tree.
She now searches for a safe and suitable den,
so her and her cubs, can sleep until Winter’s end.

I see squirrels abandon their tree-top penthouse suites,
storing nuts underground, or in the hollow of a tree.
Needing food aplenty, they will not sleep Winter away,
even on the snowiest days, the squirrels frolic and play.

Just Turn Around

 

 

by Hugh A Tague

Their form beckons to a past time and place
In the bright light time stops for not a soul
sunshine transformed into yesterday’s sight
memories and dreams cast in black and white.

Its all but lost now this style and grace
a seen played out witnessed to not one eye
her pleated dress his top hat so passé
silhouettes dance in shades of black and gray.

Shadows know not time nor respect of bounds
sashaying upon the wall with great mirth
her dress fluttered as if caught by the breeze
he took her hand her heart she gave to thee.

love faded into the storm’s dark abyss
as clouds slipped in front of the sun’s spot light
for no longer can they frolic and play
unwilling to see they just walk away.

Their form beckons to a past time and place
its all but lost now this style and grace
sunshine transformed into yesterday’s sight
memories and dreams cast in black and white.

they walk away
love and hope behind them
just turn around

(Free Rhyme Quatrain)
closed with a Codas in; (English Senyu 4-6-4)

Late Summer Storm

“Late Summer Storm” by Cindy Griffith

 

Late Summer Storm

by Hugh A Tague

The long warm Summer’s day
now begins to cool and fade
nighttime creeps into the day’s light
Winter’s reign of darkness now in sight.

Trees are the first as if prearranged
recognizing Mother Nature’s subtle change
denying life giving essence to branches and limbs
storing all its nourishment deep down within
soon they will enjoy a long winter’s sleep
a lasting silence but for an occasional crack or creek.

The Feathery First Mate

“The Feathery First Mate”
(QUATRAIN) In first person
by Hugh A Tague

Gliding high on a warm ocean breeze.
Over white sands beaches and bright blue seas.
Or perched way up high in a coconut tree.
That’s just a few places that I like to be.

From my crown to my tail and on both my wings
Color abounds, red, blue, yellow, and green.
when pirates came to visit me in my tree,
The captain of the ship took a fancy to me.

Accolades

“Tomorrow’s Awakening” by Rachel Bingaman

by, Hugh A Tague

Winter
The silent, and unforgiving boreal descends
Upon tawny fields and umber forests.
Snowflakes glisten with hues of periwinkle.
Endless night’s moon sires ice crystal’s twinkle.

Masterpiece: Day’s End

Masterpiece: Day’s End

Masterpiece: Day’s End
by Hugh A Tague

A magenta glow stained horizon
announced the end of a beautiful day
evenings cool air fell upon the shore
as summer’s sun dove deep into the bay.

Haiku

The Longest Day

Summer Solstice- Painting by Mark Garro

by Hugh A Tague

On this special Summer Solstice day
the great sun keeps the night at bay
but still the moon comes out to play
alongside the sun’s life giving rays.

Rejoice and bask in the extended heat
forever mother nighttime can not sleep
her promise to us all she must keep
into the daytime the night shall creep.

Dandelions Are Everywhere

“Terraforming” by Jess McCole

by Hugh A Tague

Dandelions here there and everywhere
tight little buds reach and stretch for the sky
a full bloom sits atop a long tall stem
tiny seeds blow away to are again.

You can find them growing in your green lawn
even on a barren planet like Mars
small fluffy seeds that are lighter than air
ensure dandelions are everywhere.

Summer’s sun’s rays bounce off the flower heads
like a field of gold at the rainbow’s end
adrift on a gentle warm summer breeze
flying away like a squadron of bees.

Sunlight nourishes the buttons of gold
they close up tight with the chill of the night
growing anywhere sturdy as can be
some say they aren’t flowers just worthless weeds.

Tight little buds reach and stretch for the sky
they close up tight with the chill of the night
small fluffy seeds that are lighter than air
ensure Dandelions Are Everywhere.

dandelions-are-everywhere- TRR Poetry

Decoration Day

Decoration Day by Hugh A Tague

By Hugh A Tague

Stones of white sprawl as far as eyes can see
fields of green survivors’ tears now nourish
the sun shone upon the flowers of May
decorating the hallowed place they lay.

The cold days of winter now left behind
spring ends so that summer may come to be
born through the compassion in Shiloh town
widows gray, for the blue laid flowers down.

Canon balls, bullets and bones of the dead
long buried beneath a blanket of earth
beckoning to a time brothers stood brave
some decked in blue yet their kin stood in gray.

From the ashes of conflict felt within
consecrated through the fire of war
a nation of people once divided
proudly under one flag stand united.

Stones of white sprawl as far as eyes can see
spring ends so that summer may come to be
the sun shone upon the flowers of May
decorating the hallowed place they lay

Flaming Beauty

Photo by Ashok Babu Thangaraj

by Hugh A Tague

Sunshine rain and earth
transformed to feed
the tight little pods.

Vibrant lime stems
delivers nourishment
to the buds of gold
safely nestled among
guardian green leaves.

The day’s light
warms and excites them
the night’s cool air
allows them rest.

In anticipation
of nature’s promise
they patiently await
their debut.

Each in its own time
burst into full display
like a flame held high
upon a branch of life
in brilliant color
beholding to my
adoring eyes.

From High Atop Your Tree

From High Atop Your Tree by Hugh A Tague

 by Hugh A Tague

Tweet, tweet, tweet little bird,
sing me a song of love.
Sing to me of passion so free
from your perch above.

Tweet, tweet, tweet little bird,
sing me a song of life.
Sing to me of happiness and joy
not of pain and strife.

Tweet, tweet, tweet little bird,
sing me a song each day.
Sing to me of bright sunshine
not of skies of gray.

Tweet, tweet, tweet little bird,
sing me a songs of glee.
Sing me awake each morning,
from high atop your tree.

TRR~Poetry

TRR~Poetry

Sunset of the Olympians

Photograph by Jason Schack Photography©

by Hugh A Tague

Poseidon’s waves lap the beach
Helios’s Sun prepares to sleep
Zeus gathers clouds for the sky
Hephaestus colors it with his fire
Aura adds a gentle breeze
Artemis put the animals to sleep
Apollo raises the moon for us
The day’s light turns to dusk.

Day turns to night then back into day
Never again is it exactly the same.

Peeling Away Winter’s Mask

 

Peeling Away Winter’s Mask

By Hugh A Tague

The pure polar blanket of alabaster
that once lay at the feet of sleeping trees
no longer reflects the faint day’s light
from barren skies of grey.
Vanquished from the surface,
transformed into liquid tinder,
fueling the inferno of rebirth overhead.

The lake’s opaque tempered shell
falls victim to longer days of Spring.
Solar rays peel back Winter’s mask
from the great mirror’s face,
once again allowing Mother Nature’s image
to rebound into the heavens.

I am but a single bard, standing in awe
as the muse of the cosmos whispers
gently in my ear; inspiring my voice,
empowering my pen, painting my soul
with respect; a respect of this place
here and now, this beautiful place,
adrift among the stars.

Photograph
by Hugh A Tague

Jack Frost’s Storm

Jack Frost’s Storm
by Hugh A Tague

A white birch bows to Jack’s command
laden with ice upon each limb and branch
all of Summer’s color, his magic blanched
silent, it’s burden held within a frozen trance

Nearby an old willow stands up straight
once flowing branches completely encased
Her limbs pulled to the ground from the weight
Summer sleeps under a canopy of crystal drapes.

The landscape has become unknown
locked in place with tools of ice and snow
a tranquil wonderland only he could sow
Jack Frost’s Storm, a spectacle to behold.

 

Springtime’s Glory

“Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming, heads all empty and I don’t care”~Robert Hunter

by Hugh A Tague

Winter’s snow falls victim to the sun’s rays
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping tree’s roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.

The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
Bright green sprouts brake through the earth’s fertile crust
A fast running creek feeds the thawing lake
Tiny birds search about for worms to take.

A spring breeze drifts across the forest floor
A hawk soars high on warm air fed currents
A carpet of clover fills a clearing
Along our path bluebells are appearing.

Broken tree limbs winter’s wrath remembered
The fall’s felled leaves are now spring’s top soil
Shades of brown take on green and golden hues
Migrating birds make the trip home to roost.

The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping trees roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.

A Promise Made

A Promise Made
by Hugh A Tague ©

Late Winter’s dusk set in shades of magenta and tangerine.
The Sun’s promise to the frozen soil, and sleeping trees
That Spring’s thaw will soon arrive, warming the land and seas.
Mighty trees’ boughs and limbs caressed by a warm breeze
As sunshine feeds their new and supple leaves of green.

Cabin Fever

by Hugh A Tague

The day’s radiant sunshine gives them life
a clear cloudless blue sky grants full access
white crystals begins to glisten then flow
thawing them from the rooftop’s stock of snow.

Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch
slowing as each falls over the ice edge
racing toward the cold snow covered ground
these lucid travelers polar air now surround.

Gravity draws their essence to the earth
cold tempered their form is compromised
riding the surface of those that came before
and still they are pulled toward the forest floor.

Winter hands down its sentence onto me
confined by the warmth inside my home
cabin fever is driving me insane
bars of ice now my prison’s window pane.

Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch
the day’s radiant sunshine gives them life
racing toward the cold snow covered ground
these lucid travelers polar air now surround.

by Haiku Hugh 俳句ヒュー

Hiroshige, Shrines in Snowy Mountains, by Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重

アイス冷たい冬の風
容赦のない霜の治世
夏は雪から隠します

(Translation)
Ice cold winter wind
Reign of frost unforgiving
Summer hides from snow

by 俳句ヒュー
(Haiku Hugh)

Art work;
Hiroshige, Shrines in Snowy Mountains
by Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重

Winter’s Barren Beach

Winter’s Barren Beach

by Hugh A Tague

 

Winter has come again
and nothing is quite the same
the sun has all but gone
and the skies are always gray.

Jack Frost’s snow
has enveloped the barren beach
his ferocious wind
whipped up the stormy sea.

Still it’s really quite beautiful
in its own way
each of nature’s seasons
must be given its own day.

Soon the Summer’s sun
shall warm the shore again
the beach no longer barren
it shall fill with family and friends.

Photograph by
Dave Richartz Photography

(Tanka) by Hugh A Tague

enveloped tree limbs
ice cold deciduous treat
powder coated art
eye candy in dawn’s daylight
blizzard made throughout the night

 

(Tanka)